


dani california vs. literal legend

by jesimiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (yeah they just fight in the parking lot), Gen, epic angelspawn demon smackdown at the dollar general!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29522460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesimiel/pseuds/jesimiel
Summary: when an angel possesses a human vessel, assuming the human survives the possession—which not many do, so this fact isn’t well known—a smidgen of the angel’s grace has the possibility to remain inside the human’s body after the angel departs. most ex-vessels never even notice the grace residue, and it usually fades away with time if it isn’t kept strong. claire novak, not to be outdone, takes advantage of this phenomenon through bouts of hand-to-hand combat with demons.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	dani california vs. literal legend

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr [here](http://4x16.tumblr.com)

claire walks out of the dollar store with a plastic bag of makeup in her left hand and a pocketknife in her right. there’s a kid in a blue jacket and sunglasses standing in the empty parking lot.

damn it. jody and donna aren’t gonna be here for another half an hour. she’s _really_ not in the mood to get accosted right now.

“hi,” she says, warily. the kid stares at her for a second before inclining his head. “um, do i know you?”

“no.”

“wait,” claire says slowly, cautiously. “are you the nephilim?”

“....yeah.” there’s something odd about the way he says it—like it’s not quite the truth, but almost might be. claire regards him with scrutiny.

“so, you’re, what—my half-brother?”

the boy holds a hand up in greeting and grins, big and bright and _wrong._ “sounds good to me. jack kline.”

claire stares at him. “no, i don’t think so.”

not-jack squints, his brows furrowing—or, at least, she _thinks_ they are, because she can’t really see them at the moment. yeah, she’s got his attention now.

_she_ smiles, then, wide and shiny white, showing off as many teeth as she can, and sticks a hand out in some pseudo-polite form of greeting. “claire.”

the thing—the _demon,_ because that’s what he is, and how does she know that, again?—doesn’t shake it, and instead sets his shoulders, taking one step back and then another. she’s freaking him out, and isn’t that delicious? 

“never met an angel called _claire_ before. aren’t you all supposed to have more, uh—more _holy_ names?”

her brain shorts out for half a second, because— _angel? what the hell is he talking about_ —and then all of a sudden a lot of unwelcome memories are forcing themselves back into her head. that barn, and her mom, and her dad, and the winchesters, and _castiel_ , and the explosion of light that almost burned her little eleven-year-old self inside out for a second there. fuck. _damn_ it.

she comes _very_ close to giving the little freak wearing jack’s face the upper hand, but narrowly catches herself before revealing anything. she thinks to herself, _god, i wish i could make my eyes glow_ , and chooses instead to shift her weight bitchily, cock an eyebrow, lift her chin to look ever so slightly down her nose, and toss her hair back behind her shoulder as righteously as she can manage. 

it fucking _works_ , which she wasn’t expecting. the demon pales noticeably and takes another fast step backwards before stopping, standing ramrod straight as though he’s worried she’ll smite him then and there for daring to be scared of her. “i, uh—yeah. um. sorry,” he stammers.

okay, she can’t keep the ruse up anymore. she’s gonna laugh, or something, and blow her cover. “i’m not an angel, dude.”

the demon crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side. it’s almost reminiscent of castiel—a bit more calculated, maybe. catlike. he shuffles his feet, settling into a better, more secure stance. feet a bit apart, toes pointed outward. ready to run. “you _feel_ like one.”

claire _doesn’t_ really feel like going into the whole possession detail right now, so she just makes an impatient hand gesture and says, “it’s a long story, yeah? not in the mood.” 

the demon shrugs, carefully casual, but she sees through it. he’s still tense, still wary. “‘kay.”

“dude, look,” she says, holding out her hands palms-up. the demon flinches backwards minutely before peering at her open fingers, seeing that she isn’t crackling with divine power like he seems to think. “i’m normal, i swear.”

he stares at her for another second, gaze rendered inscrutable by the cheap sunglasses he’s wearing, before cautiously stepping forward and extending a hand. “the name’s belphegor.”

“claire novak,” she responds, shaking his hand once, firmly, and dropping it. “come here often?” 

it’s a joke, obviously, but belphegor doesn’t really seem to take it as one. “i’m in time-out,” he says, scrunching his face up in a way that makes him look extremely young. “got snappy with the little angel that could, and he dropped me here until he’s done with business.”

“and you didn’t just…. leave?”

“i haven’t been on earth since i was human,” belphegor replies, putting his hands in his jacket pockets and casting his gaze to the side, watching the cars fly by on the freeway for a long second. “it’s been…. a long time since i was topside. everything’s different—i wouldn’t really know where to go. it’s an effective way of gatekeeping, i gotta say.”

claire doesn’t ask how long _a long time_ is, just nods absently and watches belphegor watch the road. “wanna fight?”

his gaze snaps back around, locking on her face in startled urgency. “wh—huh? what?” he steps back worriedly.

claire holds her hands up again. “jeez, you’re touchy. i’m not gonna _smite_ you, dude, i just thought we could spar, or somethin’. you seem kind of…. melancholy? figured maybe a good, uh—” she snorts, “— _round of fisticuffs_ might perk you up a little. usually does for me.”

he stares at her.

“okay, or not,” she mutters, unsettled. “you’d probably just kill me anyway, if i gave you an opportunity.”

“would _not_ ,” says belphegor, sounding almost offended that she’d even think it. “i’m not _that_ scummy.”

“you’re a _demon_.”

“yeah, but i have, like, integrity. double-crossing is for the _complicated_ plans—shit you really have to stew over, y’know? whacking someone when they invite you to fight them means nothing.” he shrugs. “i’ll go a few rounds, if you wanna.”

claire eyes him. “promise not to _actually_ try and kill me?”

“if you do the same.”

they kind of stare at each other for a second before claire nods sharply and starts digging her ipod out of her pocket.

“what are you doing?”

“need music.”

“you need…. _music_? for a fake fight?”

“yeah, duh. _every_ good brawl needs a soundtrack. you ever listen to rihanna?”

“i haven’t been on earth in, like, ten thousand years,” belphegor replies flatly. “ _no_ , i haven’t listened to _rihanna._ ”

“oh, you’re a _riot_ ,” claire mumbles, occupied with her ipod, keeping belphegor in the corner of her vision because _everyone_ knows not to turn your back on a demon. she picks [a song](https://open.spotify.com/track/7ySUcLPVX7KudhnmNcgY2D?si=IBHpY09mSDWDIR0OZXiw4w) and strips her coat off, nestling the ipod in the fabric folds to keep it safe while the music plays, and then drops her plastic bag of dollar store goods next to it. “c’mon, lose the shades.”

“nah, think i’ll keep those.” belphegor removes his jacket, as well, and jack’s body is weirdly skinny without it. the build kind of suits the demon, but claire doesn’t know whether or not it’d suit jack. _that’s_ kind of a depressing thought, so she goes back to ribbing belphegor as he tosses his jacket off to the side and cracks his knuckles loudly.

“dude, you can’t fight if you’ve got fucking _glasses_ on. i’m gonna whack you in the nose and shatter them, or something.”

“ _fine_ ,” says belphegor, clipped and a little irritated. claire almost comments on it, but then he rips the sunglasses off and flings them over by his discarded jacket and whatever she was going to say dies in her throat. 

“ _eyes_ ,” she squeaks instead, caught off-guard, and the demon pounces.

_na-na-na, come on_

claire whips into action as fast as she can, narrowly missing belphegor’s fist to her jaw. he may not be trying to kill her but he isn’t pulling punches—she hears the _whish_ of displaced air from the force of it.

_come on, come on, come on, na-na-na-na, come on_

she keeps her gaze as far away from his empty eye sockets as possible, keeping her own eyes locked on his fast-moving hands and feet. she ducks another punch and kicks out, connecting with his shin, and feels a swell of excited adrenaline as he hisses in pain.

_feels so good being bad_

claire kicks up, high and fast, and belphegor blocks it with his crossed arms—she does it again on his other side, and her calf slams into his shoulder. it’s like hitting a fucking brick wall, but he topples over and curses under his breath, so she counts it as a small victory, and gets back into her stance while he rights himself.

_there’s no way i’m turning back_

she feels _amazing_ , lighter than air, powerful as an archangel. her next fist collides with belphegor’s solar plexus with a satisfying _thunk_ , and he stumbles before lurching forward and grabbing a handful of her hair, yanking her head back.

_now the pain is for pleasure, ‘cause nothing can measure_

the sting of it is sweet, and a laugh bubbles up out of claire’s throat as she backhands the demon across the face. he sucker-punches her in return, and even with her head forced back so it’s tilted towards the sky, she knows that a grin that matches hers is plastered on his stolen face.

_love is great, love is fine_

she drives an elbow into his shoulder, his grip on her hair loosening. she jumps up and slips behind him, half to wrench an arm up behind his back and half so that she doesn’t have to meet his burnt-out eyes. she presses her chest to his back, can hear him breathing harsh and heavy.

_out the box, out of line_

“you _sure_ you’re not an angel?” belphegor asks, voice strained with exertion. 

“why d’you ask,” claire replies, one hand pinning the demon’s arm and the other clamped with borrowed strength around his waist to keep him from squirming.

_the affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more_

“because you’re _heavenly_ , sweetheart,” belphegor replies, a teasing smile on his face. claire feels herself go red.

“god, you’re weird,” she mutters, before shoving him away and raising her hands back up to block his next swift punch. 

“comes with the job,” he says, aiming another blow just above her left kidney. 

_‘cause i may be bad, but i’m perfectly good at it_

claire decides that this is _exactly_ what she’s meant to do with her life; get in fights with teenage demons set to mid-2000’s electropop in the parking lot of a dollar general. she’s _glowing_ , she can almost feel it—her hair rising to a static-filled halo around her head—and belphegor lands a hit square to the side of her jaw that she doesn’t even feel.

_sex in the air, i don’t care, i love the smell of it_

she drags the demon around by the back of his t-shirt, spinning him into a dizzy spiral, before he gets his bearings and lunges for her again. she slams the flat of her boot against his chest— _jack’s_ chest, damn it, she’s gotta be more careful—and sends him sprawling with an _oof._

_sticks and stones may break my bones_

she shoves belphegor hard as he tries to sit up, fully overbalancing him to the blacktop, and kneels over him, hands on his shoulders to keep him down. she stares into the hollow pits of what were once his eyes in triumph, basking in his open, unfettered expression that’s partially fearful and partially impressed and partially _smitten._

_but chains and whips excite me_

“give up?” she intones, hair falling over her shoulders, long enough to spill onto the asphalt around belphegor’s head. he grins up at her.

_i like it-like it, come on_

“yeah, you got me good.”

claire gets up and off of him, striding over to her bundled clothes, switching off her ipod and pulling her jacket back on. belphegor just lies there on the pavement for a long few moments, staring at the sky and catching his breath. claire walks back over and stands above him, looking down.

“what, did i _actually_ beat the hell outta you, or somethin’?” she extends a hand and yanks him to his feet. he stares at her like he’s never seen her before, which is incredibly unnerving—especially without the sunglasses. man, she’s never gonna get used to those burnt-out sockets.

“no,” says belphegor, sounding bizarrely punched-out and breathless. “no, i’m—i’m good.”

“...good,” says claire, narrowing her eyes and nodding. belphegor nods back. claire gets the sense that they’ve come to some sort of an agreement, but you probably couldn’t press her on what.

castiel shows up, then, inopportune as usual. a great blustering tan-overcoated cloud of _what are you doing_ s and _get away from her_ s and _do you have any idea what he is_ es. belphegor slides his sunglasses back up his nose and makes a weird motion with his head that claire automatically clocks as analogous to an eye-roll, which only really serves to rile castiel up farther. they’re across the lot and castiel looks about ten seconds from dragging belphegor away by the ear when the demon calls out to claire, unprompted;

“we should do this again! i liked rihanna!”

castiel snarls something inaudible and jerks him away by the upper arm. claire snorts out a laugh, and settles down to wait for jody and donna to pick her up.

**Author's Note:**

> claire should've met jack bc i think she would benefit from a gay brother and she should have met belphegor because i think he would have straight up been in love with her. belphegor voice your surrogate daughter is gnc af castiel voice YOU'RE INSANE


End file.
